The Taste of Ink
by Nashayla
Summary: Dumbledore's man through and through...that's right. That's what Harry said, and he meant it without a doubt. Now he's gone in the company of his two bestfriends, to fulfill the wish of the man before it's too late...


The Coming of Midnight

By Nasha Brownridge

It was quiet outside, as the sun began to sink, slowly setting a glorious gleam upon the many houses of Privet drive. In such a neighbourhood you would expect nothing out of the ordinary to be clear on its way, yet the residents of Number four knew better. Oh they were not pleased with the letter they'd received the night before, declaring the return of their nephew, for whom they had a great dislike, but it was out of their hands. Mrs. Petunia Dursley sat nervously upon the sofa next to her rather large husband Mr. Vernon Dursley, whose face was a pleasant plum colour as she rubbed her hands together, her rather horsy face showing no emotion. Their son, Dudley had resided to his room in fear of having a tail burst from his backside as it had once many years ago. The family remained silent...waiting, listening for the sudden sound which would announce the boys' arrival. It seemed like forever that they sat there, desperately avoiding eye contact. Perhaps it would never come...perhaps they would sit there, waiting for midnight to arrive..waiting for him to fail in fulfilling the old mans wish.

It sounded almost like thunder. Three figures appeared, one by one in the steady orange glow of the twelve street lamps spaced perfectly about the street. If anyone looked out the window of their comfortable little house, they would see not three teenagers but rather three odd folk wearing billowing cloaks and black robes, upon which was a crescent...a large H surrounded by a badger, lion, serpent and an eagle. Neither of them looked even remotely alike; one was tall with red hair and an abnormal amount of freckles, his robes looking particularly shabby and frayed. Another was a boy, but he was considerably shorter then the other with messy black hair and brilliant green eyes which looked almost unnatural. The last shortest figure was that of a girl, whose hair was so brown and bushy you could hardly see her gorgeous brown eyes behind it all.

"Blimey Harry! This is where you've gone to every summer? It looks like a bloody postcard!" whispered the redheaded boy excitedly. It had been against Harry's will for the other two to come with him...but they had insisted, and he could indeed really use the company and support of his two bestfriends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. None of that mattered now...they were there, and it was time they sprung into action. From his pocket, the black haired boy, Harry, pulled out what appeared to be a large silver cigarette lighter with no intention of lighting up. The other two stared at him for a moment, clearly puzzled...like most they had no idea what he was holding tightly in his hands, like a sacred object. With a click and an almost silent scream from the brunette, one of the street lights flickered out. Click after click was followed by the burning-out of each street lamp on the block. Satisfied, Harry tucked the Puter-outer back away into his robes pocket, smiling slightly at the look of astonishment upon his friends' faces.

"It was Dumbledore's." he said in an attempted casual voice. "Come on, it's almost Ten. I've got two hours to talk with my aunt and uncle before...before midnight." he said as he began to take long strides toward Number Four. Eyeing each other nervously, the other two followed suit almost jogging to keep up. They knew how important it was to Harry to fulfill the wish of Albus Dumbledore, whom had been killed a mere month ago...Harry was to stay at the Dursley's for one day...just one before his 17th birthday, which happened to be the very next day. At midnight the magic which had kept Harry safe for so long would die, and he'd be on his own for the first time in his life, without his mother's protection. These thoughts kept running through his mind as he broke out into a run once he'd stepped onto the path leading right to the front door of his childhood home.

They'd heard it, just a moment ago. It had sounded much louder then they'd expected yet they now knew he'd arrived. With a low grunt, Mr. Dursley stood from the sofa on which he'd been seated and began shuffling his feet as he made his way grudgingly toward the front door. Gazing through the eyepiece, he realized his nephew was running toward the door at full speed. Unfortunately had not come alone but in the company of two friends, each sharing his odd appearance. Before Harry could reach his trembling hand forward and ring the bell, he pulled it open an evil grimace upon his face.

"You've decided to show then, have you boy?" Vernon barked, backing away from the doorway letting them step into his house one by one, showing no sign of welcome. "Get in now...come on quickly!" he said, clearly afraid the neighbors would spot them if they stood upon the doorstep for too long. He slammed the door with full force, making Hermione jump about a foot in the air. Harry sent his uncle a look of warning, though they both knew it was an empty threat. He'd not come to be thrown out of the house, in which case would mean failing to complete Dumbledore's full request. "Move on now, into the living room...we've been waiting, didn't think you had the nerve to come back." he mumbled, as he shut the blinds on the nearest window.

"It's nice to see you too Uncle Vernon." he said sarcastically, and with one wave of his wand sent all three of his and his friends cloaks soaring over to the coat rack where they seemed to place themselves. It looked for a moment as though his uncle was about to tell him off for using magic inside the house, a force he most desperately loathed and feared, but he seemed to think better of it. Ron and Hermione shared anxious looks...they'd of course known Harry was mistreated at home, but they were still quite astonished.

Just like he remembered it, Number Four looked slightly odd, as though it had never been inhabited by humans. Not a spec of dust could be found upon any item or surface in the house, which was a surprise since Petunia had slacked off for the first day in her life; she'd spent her day biting her nails, a habit that had always, since Harry could remember, thoroughly disgusted her. Signaling to Ron and Hermione to take a seat, on either side of where he sat next, he looked at them both with a reassuring smile. While Ron looked most uncomfortable, Hermione seriously looked like she'd seen a ghost between the entrance and living room. Once Uncle Vernon took his seat beside his wife, an awkward silence fell about the room and no two people even dared look each other in the eyes.

"That old man who was with you last time - where's he gotten to?" asked Uncle Vernon impatiently, clicking his tongue between phrases. Harry felt an unpleasant jolt in his stomach, but he'd somehow known the subject of Albus Dumbledore would come up at some time or another. He only wished he'd thought of an answer more acceptable then "he's dead" but could think of nothing else to say. After a moments pause, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was miraculously saved the necessity to say anything at all, as someone had spoken for him.

"If you mean Albus Dumbledore, he's dead Vernon." said the voice, not of Hermione or even Ron, but to everyone's surprise it was Aunt Petunia who had answered. Every pair of eyes in the room fell upon her, even those of Ron who had been staring absently at his sneakers. Shrugging her shoulders, she began to flush making her already boney cheek bones look much larger. "Don't ask questions!" she snapped as Harry opened his mouth once again to speak.

"You're telling me this Dumbleford person...died!" said Uncle Vernon quite taken aback. Now he was not staring at his wife any longer, but at Harry from whom he was now seeking confirmation. Harry nodded, making eye contact with his uncle for the first time since their arrival. He merely sat their blinking rather stupidly for a moment, before he spoke next, sounding quite embarrassed. "Ah well, the bloke was old to begin with! What about that Lord Voldy-thing, whose going to stop him now?" he said, unable to keep the fear from his voice. Just like Harry had hoped, the subject had been brought up by someone other then him so he could grasp the moment rather then start it.

"Me." he said simply. It seemed to take forever for this thought to register in his uncle's mind, but it didn't seem to surprise Aunt Petunia whatsoever. Harry had the sudden feeling that someone other then the members of wizarding families was reading the prophet. Though only for a moment, he used the current silence to his advantage and looked to Ron and Hermione to make sure they were quite alright, and saw what his aunt and uncle couldn't see. Their hands were intertwined beneath Ron's billowing robes. Harry couldn't help but smile slightly...like Mrs. Weasley had once said, Dumbledore would have been happy to know there was a little more love in the world.

"You boy, what is this rubbish?" said an astounded Uncle Vernon. Just then Harry noticed his aunt's sudden silence, but he did not dwell upon the fact. Clenching his hands, he got ready to explain everything...a moment he'd been denying for a long while now. After several deep breaths and an encouraging smile from both his friends, he opened his mouth...he was ready, for the first and perhaps last time to explain his fate.

"It's not rubbish Uncle Vernon, it's the truth...something with which you should become accustom." he began hotly, suddenly feeling relaxed. In his mind he could hear the phoenix song echoing preparing him for the journey ahead. From there Harry began, talking of everything he could think of that had remotely to do with anything of the slightest importance, yet somehow without straying too far as to break his promise to Dumbledore...he would keep his word, and not let out anything he mustn't. He knew something's he needed to tell them, and knew he would've allowed it if he had been there with him. It must have been at least three quarters of an hour before he hit the conclusion, and finished almost gasping for breath...he'd almost forgot to breath. Judging by the horrified look upon Petunia's face, and the confused expression on Vernon's, everything was in order and going exactly as planned. "We're leaving tonight, shortly after midnight. I can't tell you what we're doing, but I can say this'll be goodbye..." and he finished with those words.

"Hmm...Well, you'd better err - better go pack up your things!" exclaimed Uncle Vernon jumping to his feet after a moments thought. He and Harry knew perfectly well there was nothing for him to pack up. The Dursley's had never been so kind as to purchase anything for him to enjoy, such as a toy or book...now that he thought about it, they'd never even bought him clothes. He'd ran around for ten years wearing Dudley's old rags, which no one could consider his own. Either way, anything or not, Harry would not pass up an excuse to leave without causing an uproar among them all, so he sprung to his feet beckoning Hermione and Ron to his side. The two followed immediately as he made his way out of the room.

"He's horrible! Oh Harry I didn't know...I never knew they were this dreadful. You could have stayed with -" she stopped, for she knew her rant she'd began upon entering his bedroom was untrue. Harry had needed the protection of the home in which his mothers blood did dwell to stay alive for the last sixteen years. Hermione began to blush as she fell back onto Harry's bed, flattening her robes nervously. Ron had walked over to Dudley's old remote-control air plane to study it thoroughly, quite bemused with such muggle nonsense.

"Well he won't miss it, that's for sure." he grinned, turning his attention to the other two. Harry had placed himself in front of his bedroom window, on which he could remember the bars his Uncle Vernon had put the summer after first year. It was almost painful to remember being saved by Ron and his brothers, knowing that there had been a time where he'd been oblivious to his fate...a fate which would haunt him day by day, night by night until he had finally fulfilled the contents of the prophecy. The silent hoot of an owl could be heard from outside, and a car pulled into the driveway next-door. It was hard to think half the world was left almost entirely unaffected by this war...It was hard to think no one else was left with the world in their hands.

"You're right I won't!" he said through gritted teeth as he stared down the street on which he'd been raised. "You know I never thought I'd see the day where I'd be leaving here for good. I'll never come back...I may never get the chance." he muttered so the other two could just barely hear him. Hermione had finally got to her feet, and sent Ron a stern look...he tore his eyes away from the electricity outlet and followed her, taking his place on Harry's left side. Slowly he placed a comforting hand on his best mates shoulder, and Hermione did the same though with tears in her eyes. It was hard for all of them to think of the future...there was no point in being naive, but still they didn't like to think of it. Together they had been through six years of horror and torment and now they would face it together once again, only this time it was unlikely they would all emerge...alive.

"Harry don't think like that!" cried Hermione, flailing her arms around his neck. "Don't - you - ever think like that, you hear me!" she said sternly, stomping her right foot upon the hard wood floor. Even worst to think about was the pain his destruction would cause the world. To see his own best friend fall to pieces every time he mentioned the possibility of his death was too much to bear. He stroked her hair gently before peeling her away, turning his back so neither she nor Ron could see the tears forming in his eyes. He'd grown stronger then ever...he'd become so brave, yet every once in a while he lost all sense of self. The room went quiet for a moment, only to be broken by Ron who cleared his throat loudly. Harry spun around to see him, pulling on his collar as though afraid it might choke him. A bell rang somewhere in the distance and he knew it meant more then the coming of Midnight.


End file.
